Пролетая над гнездом кукушки

           HepausesandpeersupatmeagaintomakesureI’mgettingit,andIwanttoyellouttohimYes,Isee:Mexicoislikethewalnut;it’sbrownandhardandyoufeelitwithyoureyeanditfeelslikethewalnut!You’remakingsense,oldman,asenseofyourown.You’renotcrazythewaytheythink.Yes...Isee...

           Butthefog’scloggedmythroattowhereIcan’tmakeasound.AshesiftsawayIseehimbendbackoverthathand.

           "Now...Thegreensheepis...Can-a-da.Canadais...thefirtree.Thewheatfield.Thecal-en-dar..."

           Istraintoseehimdriftingaway.IstrainsohardmyeyesacheandIhavetoclosethem,andwhenIopenthemagainthecolonelisgone.I’mfloatingbymyselfagain,morelostthanever.

           Thisisthetime,Itellmyself.I’mgoingforgood.

           There’soldPete,facelikeasearchlight.He’sfiftyyardsofftomyleft,butIcanseehimplainasthoughtherewasn’tanyfogatall.Ormaybehe’suprightcloseandrealsmall,Ican’tbesure.Hetellsmeonceabouthowtiredheis,andjusthissayingitmakesmeseehiswholelifeontherailroad,seehimworkingtofigureouthowtoreadawatch,breakingasweatwhilehetriestogettherightbuttonintherightholeofhisrailroadoveralls,doinghisabsolutedamnedesttokeepupwithajobthatcomessoeasytotheotherstheycansitbackinachairpaddedwithcardboardandreadmysterystoriesandgirliebooks.